Deep Wounds
by quietdrabble
Summary: After the sobering death of the one person he lived for, Edward finds himself wondering what the hell he's doing bothering to get sober. He can't escape the pain of his past and the deep wounds that plague him. Salvation almost seems unreachable for someone like him and redemption is unlikely.
1. Nothing

**I do not own Twilight and no copyright infringement is intended, but then again this is nothing like that story. ;-)**

**Warning read at your own risk. This will include references to drug use, and suffering from childhood abuse. This is a story about recovery and healing and it's a long road.**

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**A/N:**

**This story started from a flashfic. (Link on my profile page. ) Each week on Thursday they provide a prompt and you have to write a story in 200 words or less. Go check it out and write one of your own for this upcoming week! New prompt will post each Thursday on the blog.**

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Summary:

After the sobering death of the one person he lived for, Edward finds himself wondering what the hell he's doing bothering to get sober. He can't escape the pain of his past and the deep wounds that plague him. Salvation almost seems unreachable for someone like him and redemption is unlikely.

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**Deep Wounds**

**Chapter 1 **

**Nothing**

She cut.

I saw below her flesh, I saw beneath the self inflicted wounds of loathing she couldn't seem to control. I saw the colors she could not see, the chartreuse and tangerine she emitted. I saw her beauty in a way she showed no one else, the beauty she eagerly wanted to rid herself of. The beauty she desperately hated, the beauty she cut deeply into.

And I mainlined.

We both had our pains, our pasts filled with anguish and abuse. She was strong, but I was weak. She wanted to feel the steady control and I wanted to hide. I didn't want the pain and she craved it.

"The assignment today, class. Look at the picture. Write what you feel. Two hundred words or less."

The memory of her flowing, raw beauty is all I have left. She cut too deep, and I was high.

She felt the pain, and I was wasted.

I stared at the picture, my hand quivering with trepidation over the words I wanted to write. I grasped the pen until my hand shook, willing the nerve. I took a deep, steadying breath and wrote a single word on the crisp white page:

_Nothing._

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**A/N Talk to me!**


	2. Exercise

**Deep Wounds**

**Chapter 2**

**Exercise**

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I was numb.

Empty.

As I sat near the back of the room, I tried to rationalize what the fuck I was doing here. I'd been in rehab for weeks now, this go around, but this was the first "exercise" I'd been able to actually attend. It took all my strength not to evacuate the room immediately when Mikey produced the picture we were to draw from for inspiration, from which we were expected to write about our bullshit feelings.

_"Look at the pretty picture, and tell us what you see, tell us what you feel."_ Yeah, well fuck them and their feelings. I didn't want to feel anything anymore or more precisely couldn't. I stopped feeling so long ago I couldn't even remember what things were like before.

Where the hell do they get these "clinical workers" and their "exercises" from anyhow? _Look at a fucking picture? _For fucks sake!

Alice died three years ago.

That was a fucking picture. A nightmare. The life bled out of her and mine grew meaningless, merely existing became sheer effort on my part.

I left my crisp sheet of paper with the one word written in my red pen, I'd found fitting, on the desk in the classroom. Then I had to get outside, needing to inhale a long drag of the nicotine my body sorely craved; I had to give it something since I quit the junk.

It was an exchange, a fucking preschool game. If I attended their "exercises" and played along I'd get to smoke a cig outside. I hated fucking games. I'd been playing them for my very survival, my entire life, but I needed the damn cigarette. So I'd sat in the classroom with Mikey and stared at the psychedelic picture that reminded me of my dead sister and made me wanna shoot up.

Their exercises sucked.

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**A/N So ya'll seem on board with the tragedy/angst**

**Is it what you thought?**

**More tomorrow.**


	3. The Knockout

**Deep Wounds**

**Chapter 3**

**The Knockout**

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I smoked the fuck out of my hard earned cig. The high was pleasantly satisfying. _We_ used to always talk about doing this gig together: recovery. We'd been through so much together, shared heinous darkness and the vile ghosts of our pasts. The decline into our respective vices wasn't an immediate kind of thing.

It never is.

It was for survival. We wanted to escape. I was so close to getting her out, until I fucked up everything. I was too strung out to see the signs of her growing, macabre fascination with cutting deeper. I told no one this. There was no one to tell. Only me. I was her protector, her brother, her everything—and nothing.

"Edward, time to head to group," Mrs. Cope called from the door.

I gave a nod and sucked the last ounce of nicotine from the nub between my fingers before I flicked it into the receptacle. Mrs. Cope was a sweet lady. She reminded me of the old geezer we lived next door to, Waylon Forge's wife. I never could remember her name though. His, however, I'd never forget, Waylon's name was plastered all over the pills I used to steal from his mailbox when I was eight.

I walked in from the courtyard and left my fucking thoughts outside.

"Edward, step in for a minute please." Mr. Banner stopped me in the hall.

"Yeah." I gave my requisite head nod.

"Do we need to talk about this?" He held my paper, from this morning's "session" between his fingers.

"Nope."

"Edward. Being here isn't going to help unless you try to participate. You know this. Quitting is just the first step, but you have to heal your wounds, face your ghosts, or you'll end up right back here. Or worse you won't, and you'll end up dead."

"I wrote what I feel." _Nothing._

Mr. Banner leveled his eyes at me, and I didn't look away.

"You're late for group. Go on," he urged with a heavy sigh.

I turned to walk out the door without another word.

"Oh, and Edward, talk about the _nothingness_. It's a start."

I narrowed my eyes and walked out.

~oOo~

I strolled into the sterile room where group was being held and did a double take. There was a brunette I'd never seen before standing at the front of the room babbling about discussing our feelings and all I could think was, I was honestly feeling a little something.

She was a fucking knockout.

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**Thanks for reading! **


	4. Feelings

**Deep Wounds**

**Chapter 4**

**Feelings**

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"Come on in. Don't be shy," the knockout purred.

"Oh, I'm not shy, sweetheart."

Her eyes grew darker, and I knew the look she leveled. This was gonna be fun.

"You may address me as Ms. Swan. You will be respectful in group, or you will be asked to leave. Am I clear?"

Yep. A lot of fun. "Crystal."

"Good. Why don't you take a seat Mr.—" She waited for me to offer my name, but I didn't.

The ire in her bourbon colored eyes flared, and suddenly I was craving a drink. A stiff one to match my new found _feelings_.

The rest of group was rather uneventful as the wackos blubbered on about their bullshit stories of how their mommies and daddies neglected them; they worked all the time making their millions, blah-fucking-blah, so they left them to their own devices. What-the-fuck-ever. I knew my story would shock the shit out of people, but I wasn't about to share it with a room full of self-absorbed, entitled, whiny assholes.

So I sat there, adding nothing. Instead I imagined fucking the pretty little Swan, drinking in her bourbon eyes and then getting loaded.

_Fuck._

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**A/N** **You didn't think it was gonna be that easy did you? ;-)**


	5. Encounter

**Deep Wounds**

**Chapter 5**

**Encounter**

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Everything was so over scheduled here in the whack house. I guess they figured if they filled your days with stupid shit, you'd have less time to let your mind venture to the vices you were here to avoid. Regardless, I still wanted to get loaded.

I was no stranger to the gig, but it had been different my last go round. I was seventeen and hauled off to a state run juvenile facility after they found Alice and me. It blew big time in the juvie joint because they wouldn't even let us smoke, which was bullshit because almost all of us did anyhow. The kids in there were more like me. We'd shared similar pasts and truly fucked up stories.

This resort for the wealthy whiners was different. The staff acted as if they really cared, but I didn't trust them all the same. They probably just acted that way because they were raking in the big bucks. Though I've never had any of my own, I knew money talked.

I can't help but wonder if things would have been different if we'd have had money or if Mom hadn't died when I was eight and Alice only four. Too bad we didn't know Carlisle and Esme back then. Alice would have liked Esme. Shit, even I like her, you can't help not to like her. It was unavoidable. But they, Carlisle and Esme, had no clue how wretchedly awful things were. I mean they heard the stories I had to testify to in court a year ago, but I didn't share everything. Particularly not the vile details of the monster's proclivities. I only shared what was required of me, and all that did was send him to the big house for life.

He got to live, while Alice was six feet under. Where is the goddamned justice in that? I wanted to kill the motherfucker many times, but I'd ignorantly thought the shit had stopped with me and we were so close to getting out.

"Hey, 'Ward. Wanna share a smoke before we eat?" Blondie asked as she sidled up beside me.

"Name's Edward, doll-face. You got an extra?" I used to live for girls like Rose, money and looks. It was so incredibly easy to sweet talk them into sharing a little of their daddy's cash, and they'd always share their poison.

"For you, of course," she purred.

"Mr. Cullen." The voice got my attention as I turned to see Dr. Knockout walking up behind us in her tight little skirt and fuck-hot heels.

"Guess I'll catch ya later, Eddie." I almost corrected blondie, but I couldn't tear my eyes away from the woman advancing on me in the hall.

"Mr. Cullen," she repeated as she got closer. I waited, though I didn't respond. "Do you have a minute?"

"I don't know, why don't you take a peek at your little schedule and see where the hell I'm due next. There's always somewhere to be in this damn place."

"I know you think because I am new here, you can punk me out, but you're wrong. I know your type, Mr. Cullen. Now, can we please have a word in my office?" She gestured with a swoop of her hand, and I got a whiff of her. Damn she smelled as good as she looked.

"Whatever you say, sweetheart." Her eyes flamed and her nostrils flared as I brushed past her and entered her office.


	6. Avoidance

**Deep Wounds**

**Chapter 6**

**Avoidance**

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The door clicked shut behind her as I made myself comfy. The squishy chair in her office reminded me of something Esme would have chosen. The Swan sat in her tall-back leather chair behind her expensive desk, and it was a shame because I couldn't ogle her stocking-covered legs any longer.

"Mr. Cullen—"

"My name's Edward. My uncle, Carlisle, goes by Mr. Cullen and my absentee, dickhead dad may have gone by Mr. Cullen, but I wouldn't know because he wasn't ever around when I was growing up, and he's dead now. But I'm Edward. Just Edward."

"All right, Edward. Why don't you start with what brings you're here?"

I gave her the most polite what-the-fuck look I could muster. "Really? What, you got an extra lifetime or something, because this ain't a neat little story you can sit and listen to, and then tidy up with a fucking bow, sending me on my way as another success story. A little tick mark in a goddamned box, on one of your crisp white pages, in a neat little folder, filed away—no. That's not what this is. This is a fucking mess."

"What exactly is a _fucking_ mess, Mr.—er ... Edward?"

"Are you fucking kidding me, sweetheart?" The knockout repeating my use of the word 'fucking' almost sidetracked me, but I wasn't an easy target.

"Edward, I'm warning you. Don't call me sweetheart again!" The blaze in her tiger eyes flared, and it was kind of hot. But I knew she was serious, so I backed off a tad.

"Okay, Doc."

"As much as I prefer the sound of that, I haven't yet earned the title. I'm still in the middle of my doctorate program. You may simply refer to me as Ms. Swan."

"Yeah, okay. Whatever." I leaned back into the chair as I exhaled.

"Edward, do you want to be here?"

"No."

"Where would you rather be?"

_Anywhere getting loaded. _I didn't answer.

"All right, how about we try another. Why are you here then?" She shifted in her chair.

I waited a beat, but for some unknown reason, I decided to answer this one. "Because I promised Esme I'd try."

"And who is Esme to you?"

"Uh, technically my aunt. I guess."

"Technically?" she questioned, wanting more. Only I'm sure what she wanted and what I wanted were two different things.

"Yeah." So I gave her nothing.

"Edward? Do you always delight in making things so difficult?"

Again, I didn't answer. But this time the Swan had me thinking, and I didn't really like the fact that she knew—she had.

"Why are _you_ here? What the hell do you find so fascinating about fucking whiny, entitled assholes?" Instead, I turned it back around.

"Are you saying you're a whiny, entitled asshole, Edward?"

"No. I'm—" I snapped my jaw shut. _Oh. Nice try, sweetheart, but no dice. _

"Edward, if you are here as a promise to someone you care about, then don't you think you owe it to them to give it your best effort and heal your wounds?"

"I don't owe anyone anything. I lost the one person I owed anything to, and frankly, I don't deserve shit after fucking that up."

"Edward, everyone deserves a chance at a life filled with love instead of despair, but you have to begin by loving yourself."

"Really? You honestly believe that psychobabble bullshit?"

"Yes, Edward, I do."

"Well, then turns out you and me won't work out after all, sweetheart." I stood up from the comfy chair, I didn't want to enjoy sitting in, and stormed out of her office.

"Mr.—"

Her plea fell on a silent office because I was already hightailing it out to find blondie and hopefully score a drag before dinner.


	7. Compliance

**Deep Wounds**

**Chapter 7**

**Compliance**

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Being that this was one of those class A joints for the fucktards that thought they had real problems, many of the temporary inhabitants didn't share my penchant for shooting up. Though there were a few. Mostly you had your anorexics/bulimics, stoners, snorters, drinkers, and cutters. The last category I avoided like the plague, it was too close, still too difficult to be reminded of _her_ vice of choice.

Mostly they divided us into appropriate groups for discussion times. Not like it mattered because I almost never shared, but at least I didn't have to sit and listen to some waif-like loser talk about how they ate a salad and felt fat. Gimme a fucking break.

Honestly, I don't know how Mrs. Cope always had a smile on her face when dealing with the dramatics these whiners could produce. And some of the dudes were the worst. Riley, a pretty boy who liked to get high, wanted to be buddy-buddy. I'd told him to go fuck himself.

I could at least tolerate blondie. She was a snorter, her dad had bank but left her and her mom. The mom's live-in boyfriend wanted a threesome with blondie. When Rose told her mom to go to hell, her mom kicked her out. But blondie still got daddy's money, so really she had nothing to whine about either. Though she didn't share often, and that's why I liked her. Also she didn't ask questions like the other fucks.

"Edward, honey, Mr. B wants to see you," Mrs. Cope called from the archway. I nodded and gave her a small half-smile. I could at least make her life a little easier after the train-wrecks she witnessed on a daily basis.

"Yeah," I peeked my head in his office and leaned on the door frame.

"Edward, step in, pull the door shut and take a seat please."

I did as I was told.

"How'd your discussion session go yesterday?" he asked.

I stared and waited, because honestly, I had nothing to say about the matter.

"Esme called today. She wanted to see how things were progressing for you. She cares about you, Edward. Do you feel up for a visit? Let's say, Friday?"

I waited because I knew there was more. There was always more, this was how they played the game.

"You have to share something. You can do it in group or one-on-one, whichever you prefer, but you have to share. Start with describing the nothing feeling in the pit of your gut."

"Fine, I'll blabber to the Swan in private."

"Wonderful. You can go see her now if you'd like." I got up without another word because even though Mr. B worded it as an offer, it was not. It was the way they did things here. They politely offered you choices but expected compliance. So I strolled out, hands deep in my pockets on my way to see the Swan.

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**See ya tomorrow with some more...**


	8. Violation

**Deep Wounds**

**Chapter 8**

**Violation**

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"Edward." The brunette beauty greeted me from her seated position in one of her two squishy chairs. She looked hot in her brown wrap dress and made it rather hard for me to concentrate. Her desirable cleavage revealed a smattering of freckles that disappeared beneath the folds of the fabric, and I wanted to bury my face in there and get lost in her soft flesh. Well, what I had imagined was soft, I hadn't actually felt her before, but I damn sure wanted to, badly.

I cleared my throat and took a seat.

"Mr. Banner indicated you would want to talk this morning. I've cleared my schedule, though I can't promise a lifetime, I do have the better part of a day set aside for you, Edward."

She thought she was being funny, perhaps she sort of was, but I wouldn't give her the satisfaction.

"I feel nothing in the pit of my gut," I recycled Mr. B's words in an attempt to buy some time.

"Clever, Edward. I take it Mr. Banner told you your aunt phoned?"

This chick was definitely not your average brainless twit. I couldn't decide whether her tight ass or her snarky mouth was more of a turn on. In a different world, an alternate universe somewhere, I'd have wanted to be with someone exactly like her. But the shit I was dealt for beginnings in this life sobered me instantly, yanking me from my imaginary what-ifs.

"We are all killing phantoms, Edward."

"Where did you read that? One of your psychobabble books?" I scoffed.

"It's from _Henry and June_, by Anaïs Nin. Have you read it?"

I gave a snort. "Uh, yeah, because I want to read about some whacked out French chick, who was married, but fucked Henry Miller and lusted after his wife."

"Ah, but you're so familiar with the work. You know, Edward, the problem with your act is you're far too intelligent."

I knew I wasn't a moron, but her condescending tone was grating on my nerves. "What the fuck do you want?"

"I want to help." She leveled those intoxicating eyes in my direction, and I held her stare.

"You want to help?"

"Yes."

Several silent seconds spanned the palpable distance between us.

"Well, I want to get loaded and fuck. You gonna help me with that?"

And then she surprised the hell out of me with a throaty laugh that made my dick twitch.

"Wow, you really know how to woo a woman, Edward. What a lovely offer, but I'll have to decline."

"Not that different from Henry Miller's obscene vulgarities packaged under the title, _Tropic of Cancer_. I never understood the brilliance of that book, or its so-called deserved place amongst 20th century literature classics." I attended college with snooty fucks who discussed weird ass shit for a year and a half before my spiraling return to the bottom, landing me back here in rehab at twenty.

"Agreed, it's quite a vulgar read especially for a woman, but that is why _Tropic of Cancer_ fascinating. Anaïs certainly fell for the man behind his tortured, piercing words. Not everything we have to offer is so vulgar, even for Henry. We all have hidden demons, Edward."

Again the Swan's words struck me as odd, so I remained silent. She was most certainly different from anyone I'd ever encountered in the maze of mirrors.

"I'm here to help you find your way back and remain clean, Edward." Again, she leveled her large, round eyes at me.

Her words this time ignited something inside me, and I snapped. "Well, you're wasting your time. Clean isn't possible for someone like me. Ever. I'm vile."

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**Thanks for reading! **


	9. Reprieve

**Deep Wounds**

**Chapter 9**

**Reprieve**

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Whatever it was I discussed with the Swan seemed to appease them, which I'd found surprising, enough to allow me an hour with Esme.

"Oh, Edward!" Esme rushed me in the common room and nearly knocked the wind from my gut with her mothering embrace. For the most infinitesimal of seconds, I allowed her embrace to nurture me as I thought of my own mom.

"Esme, it's nice to see you."

"You look good. You have your color back. Are you eating well?"

"Yeah."

"Is it that bad, dear? I can say something. We could maybe arrange for …"

"The food is fine, Esme. Really."

"Oh, all right. Carlisle wanted to come today, but there was a situation at work. He sends his love."

I knew they both cared, but it was still difficult to accept. They'd only been a part of my life since my stint in the juvie rehab at seventeen, but they really were more than I deserved.

"No problem."

"How are things, Edward?"

"Dandy," I shot off. Esme sighed and it tugged at my insides. "Look, I can't thank you and Carlisle enough for what you've done for me, but this is—I'm—"

"Edward, it's going to take time. We understand that. The relapse was probably mostly our fault, throwing so much at you all at once. We just thought that if you were back in school, working towards a goal, you'd have a better chance of avoiding the drugs. College and then the trial, the trial was truly horrendous. We just, we never thought—he'd—I'm so sorry, Edward."

"None of this is your fault. Please don't apologize to me. Nothing is your fault." The words came out harsher than I intended, so I took a breath before I continued. "The—seeing _him_ sit across from me smirking. Life in prison is too good for a monster like him. _He_ deserved death. A slow painful death." I said the last words, smothering a sob that desperately wanted to emerge, but I hadn't cried since the day Alice died. And I wouldn't. I wasn't a pussy. "Maybe this just won't work. Maybe I'm … not worth all of this."

"Edward—" But Esme didn't hold her tears back. They tumbled silently down her rosy cheeks, and I felt like a bigger pile of shit. So I hugged her.

She let me hold her close, longer than I normally would embrace her, maybe she knew I needed to grasp onto something in that moment as well.

When I loosened my hold, she spoke. "Edward, please don't say that again. Your life is precious, and you mean so much to us. To me. Please, Edward. I know I cannot even begin fathom all of your demons, but please promise me, you are going to try to unleash them here. This is the best facility, Edward. They know what to do for you, that I cannot. But you have to trust them."

I simply nodded.

"Oh, how I wish we would've known sooner." A sob escaped her, piercing me. "You're like the son I never had, and I love you, Edward. We both do."

I loved all she had done for me, and I wanted to love her back—really love her, but couldn't say the words. I'd said the words to someone before, everyday, and I failed her miserably. I failed sweet Alice.

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**See ya tomorrow.**


	10. Open Wounds

**Deep Wounds**

**Chapter 10**

**Opened Wounds**

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The weekends here sucked even bigger ass. That was when the second string bozos were sent in, the ones like Mikey. Sure Newton did the weekday gig too, but he was the resident loon on duty for the weekends. I guess they gave him a couple of days off during the week to compensate. What-the-fuck-ever, his schedule wasn't really important, what was important was the fact I had to attend another one of Mikey's workshops.

Jesus.

"Edward, so glad to have you at the workshop again today. Come. Sit. Enjoy." Newton jabbered away.

I sneered at the bozo.

I gave my word to Esme but it absolutely did not include divulging anything to this dipstick. Ever.

"Alrighty, since the picture last week sparked so many positive results with this group, judging from your writings, I thought we'd try something a little different. Today I thought we could take your words and work backward. I'd like you to paint a new picture on a canvas based on the words you wrote on Wednesday. I have a copy of each of your writings up here. So come up select your paper and then choose an available station to begin your painting."

I walked directly to one of the many blank canvases, snatched one up and took it to Newton.

"Edward, I don't think your were listening clearly to my directions. I asked you—"

"I'm not a goddamned child, nor am I fucking stupid. I heard what you said, but considering my paper consisted of exactly one word, and that word was 'nothing' then I think we're done here. This is me turning in my completed canvas based on my paper. Now, I'm gonna go have a smoke because frankly all you've inspired within me is an increased desire to wanna go shoot up."

"Dipshit," I huffed under my breath as I headed out to the smoke hole, leaving a rather irritated Mikey behind. I was certain Mr. B would catch wind of my antics long before Monday, but I didn't give a fuck. Newton rubbed me the wrong way. Besides, I was fairly certain I couldn't paint my fucking way to recovery.

Outside, I stood there savoring every sharp inhale of the tiny, carcinogenic stick I craved. It was a beautiful day, but the warm weather only served to sour my mood further.

Alice used to love the swings on the playground. On days like today, she'd beg me to take her to the park and push her on the swings. I loved taking her to the park, hearing her innocent laughter, until it all faded away. It took me two years to realize the fucking monster had gotten to her too, and by the time I'd discovered he had, I think it was already too late. I think.

She never shared the actual details of his vile incursions, but then she didn't have to. I'd experienced them first hand. He was brutal and unforgiving. _How could I have not seen the signs? Why did it take me so long?_

_"_Jesus, Ali, I'm so fucking sorry, baby girl,_" _I professed to the empty breeze that warmed my skin.

"Honey, you okay out here?" Mrs. Cope's soothing voice startled me out of the place I tried to avoid most—the darkest recesses inside my own head—my memories. The pain buried inside is almost worse than _his_ repeated brutal penetration—it never ends.

I took one last drag of my cigarette and smashed it in the provided container.

"Yeah. Fine." I threw her one of my smiles, even I knew was off today.

"Honey, you may be able to bullshit Newton, but I know better. You want me to see if you can get an early dinner in your room?"

What was it with women and eating?

"Nah. I'm good, but maybe—do you think I could go to the library?"

"Sure, honey. Let me call and clear it for ya." She added a wink and made me chuckle.

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**Thanks to all who continue to read and review, follow and favorite, and silently stalk Deep Wounds! More tomorrow ;-)**


	11. Blank Canvas

**Deep Wounds**

**Chapter 11**

**Blank Canvas**

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"Have a seat, Edward. I heard you had a lovely weekend. Dr. Newton brought me your exquisite canvas." Mr. B had summoned me to his office.

I waited, my typical modus operandi.

"If you don't mind, I may wish to have it framed."

He was good, kind of like the Swan, but I didn't move a muscle.

"I spoke to Ms. Swan, as well, she seems to think there is hope for you contrary to Dr. Newton's assessment."

"Yeah, well Dr. Newton is a fucktard who probably got his degree online at a doc-in-a-box warehouse."

"Edward, I can assure you Dr. Newton's credentials are exemplary. Though I realize his methods are not for everyone. However, you will be respectful. I do believe a brief introductory into all forms of therapy is beneficial for a full and thorough recovery. That said, Ms. Swan has agreed to explore a variety of methods with you individually, but only if you agree to also attend her group sessions in earnest." Mr. B waited for a response this time.

Again I knew this was not really a request so much as a direct order, but I played the asinine game to perfection. The thought of exploring _things_ with the Swan was an intriguing one.

"So what you're saying is, I don't have to attend Bozo's freak show each week, if I agree to pour my heart out through visual arts with the Swan, as well as blather on about my feelings in private and in her group sessions?"

"Essentially, yes."

"Fine. But I won't yammer on about private shit in group."

"I didn't expect you would." He smiled. Bastard.

We were done, and I knew where I was expected next. The thought of seeing her almost made me smile.


	12. Blank Journal

**Deep Wounds**

**Chapter 12**

**Blank Journal**

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"Why the hell did you do that?" I strolled into her office through the open door.

"Good morning to you too, Edward. Why did I do what?"

"Save it, sweetheart. I know you are not a goddamned moron, so just give it to me straight."

The Swan seemed to allow my slip of her 'banned' word pass. Her 100 proof eyes held the same appeal as a shot in a glass, and damn if I didn't want to drink her down, throw her back. She was way too fucking, smart and sexy. She knew exactly what the hell she was doing.

"I told you, Edward. I want to help, and I believe you want me to."

I didn't respond.

"Here, I got you something." She handed me a black and white composition notebook.

"Gee, thanks, Ms. Swan."

"Don't thank me yet." She ignored my sarcasm completely and continued, "I want you to write something every day. I don't care what it is, just jot it down."

"Like a journal?"

"Exactly."

"Fantastic. Is that all?" I challenged.

She didn't hesitate. "Do you want more?"

"Not particularly."

"Then why ask?"

"I don't know. Don't you have some psychobabble bullshit book to recommend I read?"

"Sure, but there is nothing written you don't intrinsically know already, and more still, you're not ready to read. But you need to write, and tomorrow we can explore the potter's wheel."

I was never sure with her, Swan was a clever one. I took a few seconds to process her and her response, then I smiled.

"Oh, count me in. I'm ready to explore the shit out of some clay. Especially if it's á la Demi and Patrick style in _Ghost_."

She did her throaty little chuckle. "Were you even born when that movie came out, Edward?"

"Nice. What were you, like three?"

Her eyes narrowed, but she didn't respond. I knew I'd called it. The hot little Swan must be about twenty-six. They played that dumb ass movie all the time on FX, and it happened to be on in the lounge over the weekend.

"All right, Edward. You're free to go. Don't forget to write something, and I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah. Thanks for the reminder, with all your instructions and my fried brain cells from being an addict it gets confusing sometimes."

"Recovering addict," she corrected. Again the Swan didn't even acknowledge my note of sarcasm.

"Whatever." I strolled out of her office with my retarded schoolboy notebook and a masked smile. She was good.

That night I wrote in the damn notebook.

* * *

**More tomorrow. ;-)**


	13. Group Love

**Deep Wounds**

**Chapter 13**

**Group Love**

* * *

"Welcome, everyone! Today we are going to talk about love. I would like everyone to share a word, a phrase, or a memory about what the word 'love' evokes in you. Who would care to go first?"

It was group day with the Swan. I would have much preferred to play with clay.

Everyone was silent as eyes drifted to the floor and off to the perimeters of the room until one small voice began.

"Hugs."

"Quiet moments."

"Friends."

"Family."

The words came slow at first, trickling out. Then they gained momentum as the tides turned.

"Pain."

"Hate."

"Alcohol."

"Drugs."

"Lonely."

"Anxiety … is love's greatest killer. It makes others feel as you might when a drowning man holds on to you. You want to save him, but you know he will strangle you with his panic." I repeated Anaïs Nin's words. Words I'd memorized, and the Swan narrowed her eyes in my direction.

"Lovely, Edward. Though regardless of the dangers, even a drowning man deserves rescuing."

The class fell silent, but the Swan recovered like a pro. "How many of you feel a level of anxiety with the mention of the word love? Raise your hands." The Swan held hers up and others followed. Everyone held their hand in a show of agreement, everyone except for me.

"And why do you think we all feel anxiety in relation to the word love?"

Riley raised his hand.

"You don't have to raise your hand, Riley. Just speak," Swan told the emo pretty-boy.

"Oh, okay. I think we're nervous about putting ourselves out there, like, ya know?"

_Way to state the obvious, nitwit._

"Yes, Riley, anytime we take a chance with where to place our heart, we risk tremendous loss, but without risk also comes no great reward. I know the thought of trusting someone again, for many of you, is daunting. For the time being, however, it is the love affair with yourself I'm concerned with. Let's try this. I would like everyone to go around the room now and say one thing they love about themselves. I'll start. I love my patient nature."

We all looked at the Swan as if she dove straight off the deep end. No one spoke.

"All right, perhaps a different way. Rose you begin and say something you see in the person sitting directly across from you; a quality you feel they could love about themselves."

"Intelligence," Rose stated without hesitance, about me, and then it was my turn to speak about her.

"Perseverance." Blondie gave me a quick sad smile.

_Had we really seen those things in each other all along? Was it really that simple?_

~oOo~

We were all shuffling out of group, and the Swan called my name. "Edward, do you have a minute?"

When everyone filed out, she spoke again. "So you read something from Anaïs."

"It was difficult to sift through the hordes of crap they house in the library here, but yes, I did find a book of quotes which happened included some of hers. They stood out amongst the rest."

"You are not a drowning man, Edward. But you do have to understand the pain. Feel the pain, and then master it." She took a deep breath._"The secret of joy is the mastery of pain." _I recognized the last sentence as belonging to Nin as well, another entry from my borrowed book.

Suddenly, the memory of the violence, I'd suffered, surged through me, and I did not want to revisit that pain—ever. So I said nothing and left.

I wrote in my 'journal' again.

* * *

**Thank you to all who continue to read!**


	14. Self Loathing

**Deep Wounds**

**Chapter 14**

**Self Loathing**

* * *

As promised there was an actual potter's wheel set up in the Swan's office, though a day late.

"Are you fucking kidding? Or is this a form of foreplay?"

"Have you written in your composition book, Edward?"

I didn't answer.

"Did you bring it with you?"

Again no response.

"Sit at the wheel. I want you to take the piece of clay between your hands and knead the pliable earth with your fingers. Tell me what it feels like. Describe it." She sat tucked away behind her desk.

With exasperation, I sat and began kneading and squeezing the reddish clay like one of those stupid stress balls some whack came up with. "Cold," I said and stared at her. I kneaded the slab further, feeling ridiculous until _his_ image flashed in my mind. I swallowed, dropping my focus to the clay, gripping the earth between my bare hands. I imagined it was _his—_the sick fuck who was supposed to care for us after Mom's death, her husband's—the monster's heart. I was clenching and gripping and molding and pummeling the fucking hunk of clay into a shapeless, formless lump of nothingness. I imagined ripping the life out of _him_ with my bare hands. "Death," I whispered. I was shaking, biting back fucking tears.

The Swan quietly emerged from her seat and squatted down beside me. "I know your pain, Edward. I'm here when you're ready to talk." She didn't touch me, but I felt her seep beneath my skin all the same.

I flung the battered slab onto the wheel and took off without another word.


	15. Snap

**Deep Wounds**

**Chapter 15**

**Snap**

* * *

Another week ended, and I pulled my shit together after nearly losing it in the Swan's office. The fucking clay was not healing therapy. The clay was brutal.

I met with the Swan daily. She'd offer her strange advice or sit mutely depending on the day. She'd ask if I was writing in my notebook, and I wouldn't respond. We were at a deadlock. A stalemate.

I rounded the corner on my way to her office ready for another fun-filled day with the Swan, but the door was closed. So I waited and couldn't help but overhear part of the conversation. Something caught my attention, so of course I pressed my ear to the door.

"Baby, come on. You promised you'd kick off early tonight. You've been working too hard. Between school and this place I almost never see you anymore." The man's voice emanated from behind the door.

"You know I can't. Come on. You of all people know what this means to me. Please, don't give me the guilt trip," she responded.

"Maybe you just need a little coaxing, _Bella_." The man's voice lowered, and my stomach rolled with his sugared tones and suggestion.

"Stop, we can't do this here."

It was quiet for a few moments then I heard her voice again.

"I'm serious. I said stop, J-"

I heard rustling and footsteps, and realized I'd nearly zoned out. I jumped away from the door and hurried around the corner as the door flung open. I missed catching a glance of the dickhead, and for some reason, it irritated the fuck out of me.

The Swan noticed me immediately as I came around the corner. "Edward. Uh, what are you doing here? You're early."

"I, uh … I was …"

She nervously smoothed her skirt down, and my eyes traced the frantic movements of her hands. "I'm sorry. Please, come in."

I sat in one of the chairs I'd grown to seek comfort in, even though I tried like hell not to, as the Swan sat stiffly behind her desk.

"Who was the dickhead?"

"Excuse me?" Her face scrunched together, and she momentarily forgot to maintain her rigid posture.

"The dickhead that stormed out of your office, who was he?" I inquired.

"Edward, that is none of your business." She was firm, but I sensed her shaky resolve. The fiery warmth in her bourbon eyes always gave her away. _Bella. _The name suited her.

"Okay. You don't want to talk either. I get it," I shot back.

She paused, and then changed lanes at ninety miles an hour, flipping it back on me. "Edward, you've gotta give me something. Technically you can walk right out of here in less than a week's time, but if you're not talking to anyone, then what do you think is going to happen?"

I averted my focus and stared out her window, my eyes fixed on a tree in the distance. It was another beautiful day.

"I don't know." Long stretches of silence passed, and I knew she was waiting for me to fill the space. "Maybe, I'll go sit in the park."

"The park?"

"Yeah."

"Is that where your dealer hangs out?" She wasn't behaving like her typical self. Something was off.

"What?" I snapped my head away from the window to look at her.

"Come on, Edward, you've been talking in circles for weeks now," she insisted.

I don't know what came over me, but I shouted, "Alice liked the fucking park!" Immediately my hidden recesses were breached again. I didn't like the cold feeling that crept into my bones. The feeling of dread and helplessness had returned.

I fucking hated beautiful days.

The Swan fell silent at my outburst, and then it all came tumbling out.


	16. Red Painting

**PLEASE READ:**

**Warning: This chapter deals with childhood abuse, it was severe and devastating. I DO NOT CODONE this or any act of violence on a child-EVER! Please know, I attempt this with a slow hand and tread lightly. I DO NOT approach this with graphicness or gruesome details, in my opinion, but everyone views things differently. I place this warning here for anyone who might find this chapter as a potential trigger. If you are interested in continuing with the story but feel you can not read this chapter feel free to PM me and I gan give you a short synopsis. **

* * *

**Deep Wounds**

**Chapter 16**

**Red Painting**

* * *

"Alice loved the goddamned swings, her laughter was contagious. She made me smile in spite of everything. She made me smile. Until the fucking monster destroyed her laughter too. My mom remarried a total fucking douchbag when I was six and Alice was only two. Then Mom died. That's when our lives turned to shit.

"I was eight. I cried for days, missed her so much. I cried myself to sleep at night. The monster hated the crying. He told me even my baby sister was braver than me. She didn't cry. Alice was only four and didn't really understand what death meant. _He_ called me a pussy, I didn't even know what the word meant. I learned quickly after that. He told me he was gonna show me what pussies got.

"So he did. He flipped me over yanked my Spiderman pajama bottoms down, and the pain ripped through me. I screamed at first until he smothered my mouth and pressed my face further into the mattress. His thrusts were brutal and his sheer strength and force—pure evil. It was over relatively quickly, but it felt like he'd invaded my entire lifetime. I guess he had."

I continued to stare out the window.

"So no, my dealer doesn't hang out in the fucking park," I spat. "I actually want to be normal. I want to not feel the burning desire to shoot up accost me in the middle of the night. I don't want to crave the warm numbing sensation, the rush that takes the pain away, because I don't want to fucking feel the pain in the first place. The park simply reminds me of Alice." My eyes began to glass over, but I bit it back.

"You're a beautiful soul, Edward. He is the vile monster. There is _nothing_ vile about you. You have to believe that." The soft hum of the Swan's voice soothed me, and I hated that it made me feel like a pussy.

"I'm not finished," I snapped.

She took a breath and waited.

"It hurt so fucking bad, but the humiliation was terrifying. He didn't have to threaten me not to speak. I couldn't. Our neighbor was an old dude, war vet. He had pills delivered to him all the time in the mail. I'd overheard him talking to his wife about pain and put the pieces together. So I began stealing pain pills from his mailbox. I only used them for when the monster came into my room at night. At first it wasn't frequent. Eventually, I stopped crying completely. I thought if I became whatever the antithesis of a pussy was he'd stop.

"I was wrong. It continued for four years, and I was addicted to pain killers by then. I was twelve when it suddenly stopped, and I thought it was because I'd finally become a non-pussy. I never thought he'd touch Alice. Never. For two years, I continued to pop pills for the emotional pain while he did god only knows what to her. I didn't know. She was always so quiet. She never cried.

"Alice began cutting at ten, and then I knew. Rage burned inside my veins. I wanted to kill the mother-fucking vile bastard. I was a scrawny fourteen year old addicted to pain killers. I should have done more, but I didn't know what else to do. Alice begged me not to tell anyone, she was afraid of losing me. So I came up with another plan. I offered myself to the fucker and kept Alice safe, or so I thought. The pain pills were no longer helping and another year passed. Soon I found myself falling into the wrong circles at school trying to score something stronger.

"It was easy to sweet talk the rich chicks, for some fucking reason they liked the bad boy image I'd perfected. It was such a fucking joke because I was really just a pussy. By sixteen I was experimenting with different shit and the bastard was so fucking drunk out of his mind most of the time he hadn't touched me in months. Alice and I caught on and we figured out how to sneak him a little extra so he'd pass out for the entire night. Things seemed to be getting slightly better, but then I discovered smack. Smack took me places—places where I didn't have to think anymore. I was so fucking tired of thinking.

"I was stupid. I thought I was careful always watching out for Alice. We had a plan. As soon as I graduated I'd emancipate and take Alice with me. A month before my high school graduation I fucked everything up. I was mainlining and so fucking out of my head, Alice came to sit beside me. I thought she was painting a fucking picture."

I stopped, the words caught in my throat, and then I completely lost my composure. The tears fell without restriction, and I choked out one last sentence.

"She was painting in her own blood."

End Part 1

* * *

***takes a deep breath***

**Thanks for reading!**


	17. Goodbye

**Deep Wounds**

**Chapter 17**

**Goodbye**

* * *

I filled every last page in the composition book during my final days at the recovery center, but I didn't talk to the Swan again. I had nothing left to say. I did meet with her and listen, though. She had much to say during the last sessions we shared. I guess she knew I was listening because she didn't push me to say much of anything.

I dropped the journal in her office on my way out. Then I popped in to see Mr. B one last time.

"Edward, you my friend, will be missed. It will be far less exciting around here without you. You have Dr. Hale's number, and the first appointment is already set. I think he'll be a good fit for you on an outpatient basis."

I nodded.

"Take care of Esme and tell Carlisle I said hello."

"Sure."

"Oh, and Edward, call my number anytime." He tipped his head.

My left cheek twitched as I turned to head out the door and back into the world of the unknown. I'd decided I owed it to Alice as well as myself to really make a go at this life. The Swan had helped me over the first hurdle.

"Edward," Esme rushed me as I met her in the parking lot.

"Esme." I let her hug me, and I hugged back. She smelled like fresh-baked cookies and warmth. "You look lovely."

"Such a charmer. You really are so much like your uncle. Come on let's get you home."

So Esme drove me to the land of milk and cookies, but I couldn't stop thinking about the Swan.

I knew our worlds were not compatible; a world where titles and caste systems still mattered. A world where I was a recovering drug addict and she was an intuitive therapist, vying for her doctorate; a title she rightly deserved; a title that would divide us. Still I couldn't get her out of my head.

* * *

**Big ole smooches to AJasperforMe and SunflowerFran for all their help! Mistakes still belong to me because I excel at them. **


	18. Masked Apperances

**How about one more today?**

* * *

**Deep Wounds**

**Chapter 18**

**Masked Appearances**

* * *

"Edward, I'm Dr. Hale, nice to meet you. Come on in and have a seat."

His office was different from the ones at the recovery center. Hale's office was festooned with weird carved masks hanging all over the slate-grey walls. They were fucking creepy. There was a chrome desk and matching, sleek roller chair tucked off to the side. One high-back, black, leather club chair sat directly across from a narrow, uncomfortable looking, matching leather couch. I assumed the stiff couch was for me.

I took a seat, and the leather did not give, it wasn't conducive to slouching or relaxing. I hated the office immensely, but the man I was still undecided about.

"Dr. Banner sent over his notes from the recovery center you agreed to release, and I've looked them over."

Dr. Banner? I hadn't realized Mr. Banner was an actual doctor himself. He never insisted on the title, and no one at the center used it. _Strange._

"So, Edward, let's cut to the chase. I know you have no desire to begin again and retell your entire story. When's the last time you felt the urge to shoot up?"

Well, his direct approach was certainly something new and unanticipated.

_This morning before coming here._ "Uh, I'm not sure exactly. It's been a while."

"A while?" he repeated.

"Yeah."

"All right, let's talk about goals." _Translation: 'You're a fucked-up mess, so I'll tread lightly.'_

So we did. It was simple. I wanted to finish school. We discussed the vapid details of college registration and other vague topics pertaining to the future. We spent zero time hashing out my past. Honestly, it was fucking perfect except for the stiff couch and freaky masks.

I held off judgement on Hale, just to be sure.

~oOo~

"Edward, how are things?" Dr. Hale asked me the next week, as I entered his office the same as last.

_Each day was a struggle, but I was determined to do this. I wanted to be, _"Fine."

"Good. So have you registered for classes?"

We discussed the particulars of school and shit and again avoided all mention of my past. Before I left, he asked me about shooting up again, and I responded with a shake of my head.

~oOo~

"Edward, good to see you."

Again I sat on the stiff couch and looked at the creepy masks staring back at me as he asked about classes and the desire to shoot up. I gave him what he wanted to hear on both fronts.

I'd been out of rehab for three weeks and honestly had only thought about getting loaded a few times, but never seriously. Every time I'd entertain the thought for even a second, the Swan's face would enter my mind. I couldn't seem to forget about her or some of the things she said to me.

Suddenly, I couldn't stand it anymore. "Why do you have all these creepy masks?"

"I was wondering when you were gonna ask." He smiled. It was a friendly smile. "These represent what we all wear on any given day. People silently slip in and out of many different masks throughout the day. We wear them for everything and don't even realize when we're doing so. But what lies beneath the masks, Edward? Do you know?"

"A slate grey wall," I answered with zero emotion.

"I've eagerly awaited the tomfoolery you seem to be notorious for, Edward." He smiled again.

Seemed Hale was taking a page from Mr. B's playbook now. However, while Mr. B came off as sharp and effective, Hale seemed to display a cunning shrewdness. I decided I hated the masks even more, and Hale was temporarily back under scrutiny.


	19. The Swan Files

**Deep Wounds**

**Chapter 19**

**The Swan Files**

* * *

**BPOV:**

It had been some time since Edward left rehab, but beyond flipping the composition book open, I couldn't yet bring myself to read the words within. I suspected more abject horror would await me when I did, so I had to time it right.

Classes were on hiatus, and I had a day off from the center, so I made a steaming mug of tea and settled into my oversized chair with Edward's composition book.

_She called me a recovering addict today. She thinks she can save me like a drowning man, but she's wrong. I fear I'd do worse than strangle her with my panic. My gruesome memories are enough to yank someone under with pure revulsion and silence them for life. _

_Returning to a normal state, that is the definition of recovery. I've long forgotten what normal is like._

Edward's mind never ceased to amaze me.

_She wants me to_ _feel my pain. I don't think she realizes the pain suffocates me during the night. I'm unsure of how to master the pain when it continues to lurk in the darkest recesses._

Another entry and deeper insight.

_I can't believe how completely I'd lost myself in the clay. It was frightening and satisfying. The clay, cold and lifeless, reminding me too much of the vile man my mother had married. At first the clay was inanimate, but then my mind gave it anthropomorphic qualities similar to those of the Monster's … before I knew it, I had ripped his imagined heart out and crushed it with my bare hands._

I read his words and experienced his pain.

_I told her about Alice, but not in the way intended. I only wanted to share the joyous memories of Alice, her light that shone from within before it was extinguished, but I was easily sucked back into the vortex of horror when I treaded too close. I unloaded everything in a raging blur. In the end, I saw red and fucking cried. _

I flipped another page awed by Edward's insightful words, wondering where his life has led him, hoping for the best. Edward had sparked something inside me, something—

"Hey, baby. I'm home," the familiar lazy voice called from the front door, startling me.


	20. Swan's World

**Sorry for the delay. I had an impromptu getaway with the fam in RL, but I'm back now. ;-)**

* * *

**Deep Wounds**

**Chapter 20**

**Swan's World**

* * *

**BPOV:**

I snapped Edward's journal shut and placed it on the coffee table.

The man I've been with for nearly five years cooed, "Hey, baby," as he strolled into the room and leaned down to kiss me.

"Hey." I gave him a frosty cheek, distracted by my mind's preoccupied inquiry.

"How was your day off?"

"It was fine."

"Now _you_ sound like a patient. Really, Bella?"

"You're right. Okay, if you must know, it sucked. I don't enjoy having so much free time. I'm ready for classes to begin again, and I enjoy going into the center. I love helping people. Sitting around makes me … antsy."

"It's not a race, Bella. Once you get the piece of paper that proclaims your brilliance to everyone, that I'm already aware of, then what? Are you going to be happy just working at the center?"

"I don't know. I like it there."

"Why? There are fucked-up people everywhere, and you're too brilliant to be wasting your time at Banner's whack house. Go into private practice, that's where the money is."

"Please stop pressuring me. Banner has been good to me and I—"

"Bella, you make shitty money there."

"I do not, and it's not all about the money."

"Okay, let's discuss this another time. I have a conference next week in Chicago, so I'm gonna miss your birthday. Let me take you out tonight instead. We can share a meal and a bottle of wine and forget about work, plans, and the future."

So we went out, and the man I thought I'd fallen in love with nearly five years prior wined and dined me. But I found myself wondering; when had we begun drifting apart? I couldn't help but realize we wanted different things from life. While he still hadn't asked me to marry him, I was irritated I wanted him to all the same. I couldn't seem to stop my reeling mind.

* * *

**Thanks for reading!**

**On a side note, my other fic The Lake House is up for Fic of the Week at The Lemonade Stand. Woohoo! One of you lovely readers must have nominated it, and for that I would like to say: Many Thanks! **

**You truly are the best bunch of readers! So if you'd care to pop on over and vote for The Lake House that would be awesome! Thanks again!**

**Till next time,**

**~quiet**


	21. Rain

**Important A/N at the end.**

* * *

**Deep Wounds**

**Chapter 21**

**Rain**

* * *

Hale had to reschedule my appointment, and because I was still only a month out of rehab it wasn't recommended I skip a week. So he set up a meeting with Mr. B for me. I hadn't been to the center in over a month, and going back felt strange at first.

"Edward, wonderful to see you again. You look good, come on in."

"Dr. Banner," I stated as I entered.

"I see you've met with Dr. Hale." He smiled at my use of his title.

I nodded and scanned the familiar office, noticing a newly hung blank canvas, and tucked in the corner was an official certificate confirming his doctorate status from Harvard, of course. I wonder how I hadn't noticed it before. Maybe I wasn't looking. Maybe I didn't care; probably both.

"I hope you don't mind, but your canvas really does speak volumes." He indicated, my blank canvas that now hung on the wall behind him, with a flick of his wrist.

I shook my head. "It's fine. I have no use for it."

"Perhaps one day you will."

I thought about that for a moment.

"So how are things with Hale?"

"Uh, fine."

"Hm."

"What?" _Shit!_ I was out of practice or maybe I felt too comfortable with Mr. B, but either way, I slipped and asked the question aloud.

"I had hoped for a better fit." Mr. B tented his fingers and pressed them to his lips as we stared at each other closely.

"It's a great fit. Really. He has creepy masks on the wall behind him that stare me down for an hour while we talk about my goals. It's all good."

"Goals?"

"Yep."

"Interesting." His eyes narrowed.

This time I waited for him to continue.

"What goals, if you don't mind me asking, are you working on?"

"College."

"I see." He drew a quick breath.

I didn't. Banner had lost me.

"Have you been tempted to use, Edward?"

I hesitated briefly. "I think about it, but when the urge seeps in, I replace it with other things."

"Other things?"

"Yes," things the Swan encouraged me to focus on. "_A smiling Alice in the park on a rainy day. Go to the park in the rain and imagine her laughter. Then find the truth in the moment. People become broken in beautiful weather every day, but they also laugh in the rain. Rewire your triggers. Preserve Alice's laughter in the rain. The imperfection of the moment is true to life. Enjoy the rain for a while, Edward. Find the beauty in the rain and bring Alice with you," the Swan had said to me. _And sometimes I focused on the Swan herself. Though, I said none of this to Banner.

"Edward, I'd like to remind you if you ever need anything, my door is always open to you."

"Thank you."

"Don't be a stranger."

I nodded and knew my required time had expired.

As I was leaving the center, my breath caught like a fucking girl at the sight of Swan in the hallway. She was even more beautiful than I'd remembered. The sight of her made me ridiculously happy as she approached me.

"Edward, it's a surprise to see you here."

"Strictly outpatient."

"I know."

"You do?"

She nodded. "Of course, I have the utmost faith in your recovery. You look good, I mean—you have life thrumming within you again. You looked different when I first met you."

With her words I returned her smile, but we merely said goodbye as quickly as we'd said hello.

As I stepped outside to leave the building it began to pour and I realized I loved the fucking rain.

* * *

**A/N: I apologize upfront for posting a chapter only to announce that it will most likely be sometime before I update again, but I didn't want to post just an author's note. **

**I've had a family matter arise in RL and will be stepping away from FF for a while. As RL obviously takes precedence over FF I hope you all understand. I absolutely adore sharing stories via FF with each of you and will be back as quickly as possible. **

** If you have me on author's alerts you'll get an email when I return with an update.**

**Thanks again for being the best bunch of readers!**


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